My Prince's Dragon
by BeauMeris
Summary: Rachael Dally-Punzel has never really felt like she fits in at home. Maybe it's because she's adopted. But, when she gets a letter from a boy claiming to know her Godmother and father, things start to heat up. Who is Rachael really and who is the dragon in her dreams? (Name adapted from My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett, Ruth Chrisman Gannett)


There's something sort of incredible about fairy tales. The whole concept of true love is so completely crazy, they make a great escape. Great escapes are hard to come by in high school trust me. Especially when you're one of those kids. My parents died when I was a baby and I was adopted by Arma and Leo Dally. They named me Rachael and they're the closest thing to real parents I've ever known. However, Arma is an artist and Leo loves to read science fiction. When I didn't out-grow fairy tales when I turned eight, like most kids, they knew I was different. I guess that's why people tended to avoid me. Except for my two best friends, that is.  
Seth and Sarah Holly were the only twins in the student body of Churchill High. It was in a little suburb of Boston called Petite Ville. Pretty boring, huh? Seth and Sarah were almost four months older than I was, but that was okay. They were still my best friends.  
They were so close, but they were also really different. Seth was really careful and methodical about everything he did—even kissing me, his girlfriend. In comparison, Sarah was rash and impulsive and I loved her for it. She always said things really fast and made impulse buys that she gave to me before her mother could notice. It had always been the three of us. We grew up on the same block, so back in kindergarten we'd go to the park and catch bugs. My favorite days were when we'd see the chameleons that summered in Boston. I was fascinated by the way they changed colors like the watercolor paints that Arma had.  
Anyways, it was May and we had three days left of freshman year. Seth and Sarah had just turned fifteen. I had another three months before my birthday. We were sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria. I took my turkey sandwich out of my lunch box and took a bite. Normally, I was the only one of us who brought cold lunch. I didn't trust the cafeteria food since at the beginning of the school year, I swear my sloppy joe (at least that's what they called it) moved on my tray.  
Sarah was sitting next to me and babbling about something I'd lost interest in after the first sentence. I was focusing on her brother as he methodically chose his food: a yogurt, an apple, and a hamburger.  
As he walked over to the cashier lady, he caught me looking at him and gave me his cocky smile. That was the thing about Seth. He knew that he was hot, so he loved it when he caught girls (especially me) staring at him. He paid the lady and said something to her that made her laugh, and then walked over to us. He plunked his tray down on the table and pulled out the chair on the other side of me. He sat down and reached an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. "Was it the light or did I catch you staring at me back there?" he whispered, his perfect lips tickling my ear. I blushed, answering his question. He kissed my neck and laughed. "It's all right, babe," he said leaning back in his chair. "I knew when I put on this shirt this morning that you'd find me absolutely irresistible."  
I nudged him and Sarah pretended to gag. "Yeah," she said. "That's it."  
"No need to be rude, little sister," he joked. She threw a chip at him. It landed in the crook between his collarbone and neck.  
"16 minutes does not make you older than me," she said, laughing. He shrugged.  
"Hey, Sarah?" I said. "You are watching?"  
She nodded. I leaned over and picked up the chip from Seth's shirt, being sure to brush Seth's neck with my tongue. "Erg! Visuals! Eex-nay on the isuals-vay!" Seth and I laughed.  
When lunch was over, Seth and I had art class. Sarah had Functions. We left her at the door, since it was on the way. When we got to the art room, Mr. Canvas was standing at the front of the room. His name wasn't really Mr. Canvas, but since he spent most of his time painting random pictures on his easel in the back of the room, that's what we called him.  
Seth and I sat down in the middle of the room. "All right, class," Mr. Canvas said, "today we're going to be sketching." The class groaned, but I didn't. I loved sketching.  
"What will we be sketching?" Leila Comings in her annoying as hell teacher's pet voice.  
"A couple," Mr. Canvas answered. He zeroed in on Seth and me holding hands under our desks. "And I think I know just which."  
Everyone turned and looked at us. One stare was particularly burning—that of Anne Marie Wink. Everyone knew that Anne Marie had had a crush on Seth since forever, so when we started going out, it just gave her one more reason to make my life miserable. Like she needed one, really. She'd set out to get me in middle school when I beat her in the sixth-grade spelling bee. She was definitely one of those people to hold a grudge.  
"Mr. Holly and Miss Dally," he said a wicked grin on his face. "Front, now." We walked up and as he walked in front of us to talk to the class, he stepped on my foot. He hardly looked sorry. "Mr. Holly and Miss Dally, please pose so the class can draw you."  
As the class took out their sketchpads, Seth looked at me. "Should we really give 'em something to draw?" he whispered. I cocked my head, and then shrugged. He slid his arms around my waist, mine around his neck and we kissed.  
We stood at the front of the class kissing for the rest of the period. By the time we pulled away, we were both laughing, but mine was only half-hearted for some reason. Out in the hallway, Seth took my hand. "Rach," he asked, "What is it?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just tired or something. I'm going to go see the nurse." He nodded and we both walked towards the office. When we reached the door, he gave me a long, sweet kiss on the nose and a short, tenderer one on the forehead.  
"Feel better," he said, sweetly, then walked away. I walked into the nurse's office and asked if I could lie down.  
The nurse looked suspicious, so I tried to convince her I wasn't just trying to ditch. "Could you call Jones and tell him I'm not feeling well?" This must've convinced her because she nodded, then gestured to a cot and turned out the lights for me.  
I lay down on the cot and closed my eyes. I wasn't really tired, but I did feel sick. Every one of mine and Seth's kisses had been incredible—passionate, lingering, perfect. But this one was different. It was like being twelve and pretending to kiss Taylor Lautner—nothing but air. Seth's kisses weren't supposed to be air. Was it a sign or was I just overreacting? I didn't know.  
I was still thinking about this when the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I sat up and walked to my locker. Seth came up behind me and set his head on my shoulder. I couldn't tell him, could I? He was my best friend, my brother, my boy. This would rip him apart. I tried to ignore him as I remembered what we had for homework.  
As if reading my mind, as he always did, he said, "English notes and study for the Geom. exam tomorrow."  
I nodded and grabbed my Geometry and English binders. I stuffed them into my bag and shut my locker. I swung my bag over my shoulder and Seth took my hand again. "You okay?" he asked, sweetly.  
I nodded.  
"No, you're not. What's wrong?" he asked. I didn't answer. He took my chin in his hand and gently turned me to face him. "Tell me, Rachael."  
Tears burned my eyes, but I told him as we walked out to the pavilion to meet Sarah and walk home. "Wow," he said when I'd finished. "I don't know whether to punch you or just walk away," he said quietly. Calm, rash Seth was on the edge of a break-down.  
"I'm so sorry, Seth," I whispered.  
He put a friendly hand on my shoulder. For the first time since last August, it wasn't a couple kind of thing. It was a friend kind of thing. "You can't choose it," he said, smiling. Then, he kissed me on the forehead and let go—not just of my shoulder.

"Arma! Leo! I'm home," I said as I walked in the door. Arma was in her studio painting some kind of pixel piece. I hated it when she did those. I could never tell what they were. I walked in and rested my hands on her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  
"How was school?" she asked. Her hand moved freely as she made absent white strokes over her piece.  
"Fine," I said.  
"Is Seth here?"  
"Nope."  
At this, she looked up. "He isn't?" She looked around as if to confirm this. "Hmm," she muttered.  
"We broke up today," I explained.  
"Oh, Rachael," she said, and she hugged me.  
I pushed away, laughing. "We're still friends. It's just not the same anymore," I told her.  
She nodded. "Oh-okay. Whatever you say." Then, she sat back down on her stool and went back to painting.  
"Where's Leo?" I asked.  
"Where else?" Arma responded.  
Leo was in his study hidden behind an Anthony Horowitz novel as he always was. "Hi," I said, as I peeked my head in.  
He looked up and gave a quick smile. "Hey, butter lump," he said. Then, he went back to his book. It must've been a good one. I was always either 'sugar lump' or 'buttercup'. I'd never been 'butter lump' before. I was walking out when Leo called, "Oh, you have mail."  
I figured it was a magazine or something, but I realized it was an actual letter, stamped and hand-addressed to Miss Rachael Dally-Punzle, 4456 North L'Eglise Street, Petite Ville, MA. That was weird. Who was Rachael Dally-Punzle? It was my address and all, but then I remembered. 'Punzle' was my birth parents' name. Whoever sent this letter must've known my parents.  
On the back, there was a return address. I didn't recognize the name, but the city, that was familiar. 'Storybrook, CT'. The letter was from someone named Henry Swan, whoever that was.  
I slid my finger under the letter and gave myself a paper cut. "Shoot," I whispered and I walked out of Leo's study before he could look up.  
I sat down in the living room on the spring green settee. The letter was set in a neat block print. The letter read:

_Miss Rachael Dally-Punzle,_  
_My name is Henry Swan. You don't know me, so I bet you're wondering why I would send you a letter. Well, if I told you over this letter, you would think I'm crazy and call me a loon. But, that's beside the point. Your god father, James, lives here in the town of Storybrook and I've arranged for you to stay at the local hotel and meet with him. From what I know of your family, you don't belong in Petite Ville. I'm not a stalker, don't worry. I've known your god father and his wife, Mary Margaret for a long time. _  
_In the envelope is a train ticket. All you have to do is go to Boston Train Station on the day you would like to depart and hand them your ticket. It is completely interchangeable, so any day would do. When you get here, we will get you another ticket so that you may be punctual getting home. I think it would be in your best interests as well as those of your aunt and uncle if you stayed here at least a week. That way, you'll have a time to get to know us all fairly well here in Storybrook._  
_One final note: if, when you get her, people call you "Rapunzel", just ignore them. Everyone here gets a fairy tale name. It's kind of stupid, I know, but it's part of what we are. Don't ask me how they got that idea into their heads, but they did. They are as anxiously awaiting your arrival as I am your god parents are. It's not very often we get visitors in Storybrook._  
_So, jus send back a letter to my address with what day you'll arrive at Hartford Train Station so I can meet you there. Or give me a call on 555-0818 I can't wait to meet you, Rachael._  
_Yours sincerely,_  
**_Henry Swan_**


End file.
